Dedication: This is for everyone who reviewed the latest chapter. Cookies and pie for all you guys. Happy Holidays!
A/N: Before anything else, I would want to note that this does not necessarily occur simultaneously with the events of The Hobbit, and so I won't be following all the details there (which, I think, explains Thranduil's slight OOC ness). Enjoy!
Chapter Five
"He was one of the best warriors. He was the captain of the guards," Legolas said, as his father sat, watching him, listening.
"He stepped out alone. And who can say for certain that ill has befallen him?" Thranduil answered. "There may yet be a chance."
"Duon told me he had promised to return that night. But he did not," Legolas continued. "And it has been days."
"Then what do you propose we do?" he asked, watching Legolas pace back and forth.
"I can lead a pack. We will search for him," he said with conviction.
"But we have already talked about it in the council. No one would leave until the training is complete," Thranduil continued. "Adassir himself knew about it. Yet he stepped out, telling nobody but Duon."
"Then we will leave by a small number. So that no one notices our absence."
"You are the prince. Of course they will notice. But supposing I agree, who do you propose to go with you?"
"Aegnir. And four others. Annuneth, Orwen, Meginor, and Amarthandir."
"Ah. You have chosen some of the best warriors." Thranduil said. He looked at his son, and slowly stood up. He walked closer to Legolas, and then asked, "But what if, like them, you do not come back?"
There was no answer.
"So you are saying that you would sacrifice the lives of others, and yourself, for one who was aptly warned of the consequences?" he said, pacing on, never looking at him.
"I'm saying that we cannot leave him out there to die." Legolas answered quietly, and Thranduil turned to stare at his son.
"Why do you have to weigh the events on yourself?" he asked after a moment of pause, and Legolas could see the tiredness in his face. "These matters are not yours to brood over. There is a wedding later, and Glines is your friend. You should be attending to that," he said.
"The wedding can manage without me."
"And you think Mirkwood cannot?" Thranduil said, still staring at him.
Legolas stopped, taken aback.
The king sighed. "You are young, and you are the prince. Many look up to you, I know how that feels like," he said. "But there are things you cannot do anything about. A good leader must know when to attack, and when to hold back. Adassir knew the instructions: no one was to go out. Yet he did. I will not risk the lives of our people for a stray. We will search for him, yes. But only when we are ready, and only when it is the right time to do so."
Legolas clenched his fists, defeated. He turned abruptly, ready to leave.
"There will be something done, though you believe me to be doing nothing," Thranduil continued, and Legolas turned back to listen. "The Imladris and Lothlorien elves have agreed that it is best to leave soon. In five days, they will be marching home," he explained. "They will go by groups, with ten of our kin to accompany each group. It is as you have suggested in the council meeting. You and our kin will all then reassemble at the destinations and come back together. And only on your way back here, when you are all together, will you search for Adassir. Search the forest, the hills, the villages. And bring him home," he finished.
Legolas had his eyes down. When he did not answer, Thranduil continued, "You have much to learn, but for now, go to Glines. She will want to see you." He said. And then, "It is about time one of you got married," he paused. "Give her my blessings. And you? Have you considered anyone yet?" he asked.
He felt the agitation and embarrassment mold into one as he glared at his father. "No."
"Pity," Thranduil looked thoughtful. "Lord Elrond has consulted me about you," he said. "There is an elleth, in Rivendell—,"
"No father," Legolas said curtly. "Not now," he said, before bowing his head swiftly and leaving the room.
The elves he met on the way out all stepped aside as he walked past. It was disrespectful to them, he knew, but now he did not care. All he needed was to be outside. He needed the wind. His footsteps echoed heavily, and he knew his face was etched with frustration. He hated this. He hated not knowing where Adassir was, he hated not doing anything about it, he hated that his father would want him to marry soon. He paused as soon as he reached the castle's gates, but he did not walk to where the wedding was. Instead, he went to the East, in the empty clearing, where, soon enough, he could see a lone elf aiming at the trees. Even in the night, her flaming hair was unmistakable.
As soon as he arrived, he swiftly pulled the bow from his back, strung an arrow and released. The arrow hit the target, but was very slightly off the center. He could see her slowly release her hold on the bow to look at him. He could tell that she knew. She could read him very easily. He turned to look back at her, expecting to be asked why he was behaving this way.
Instead, she had a smile on her face as she asked, "Do you also not enjoy weddings?"
He lifted a brow. She was deliberately not inquiring about his heated actions. That was not the comment he had been expecting. However, he chose to answer her, trying to keep his voice level. "I will go afterwards. I would not dare mar their celebration with my..." he turned away from her and strung another arrow, looking for the right word. "...frustrations." He released. It hit the center this time.
He could hear her exhale as she also pulled the bowstring.
"And you? Will you not go?" he asked, pulling another arrow from the sling on his shoulder.
"After, perhaps," she said, releasing the string. They both watched as it hit the tree, a few inches away from the center. Already, it seemed so long since the first time they had talked at the glade. The longer they trained, the more he had looked forward to their training sessions.
As he taught her, they had often talked. And he had enjoyed their conversations. Often, she would understand many of the sentiments he shared to her, and he in turn, felt strongly towards hers.
He felt a certain fondness towards her. Like a fondness one would feel towards a student, or a comrade. "I could not go knowing that I have very little time to train left," she told him, her voice very soft.
"You know?" he asked, stopping in surprise. They had not yet announced that the groups would be leaving earlier than they had planned. His father had told him to announce it tomorrow, after the wedding took place.
"Arwen is my cousin, so of course I know," she smiled knowingly at him.
Cousin? He controlled himself from asking. Little by little, he was knowing more about her, from the snippets of their conversations of a month. He knew, or rather, saw, that she wanted to learn. She wanted to fight. He knew that she had a mother—a father, she never spoke of. And now, that she was Arwen's cousin. Knowing more about her reminded him of a memory from long ago.
Angoldis, the scribe, had been painting the map of Middle Earth. He did it little by little, starting with the east, then a bit to the north, he would add more to the south, before going back to the east. Legolas liked coming back every morning to check on the scribe's work, everyday finding it looking different from the day before. But he never asked questions, never disturbed him while he painted. Just as he never asked Tauriel questions—he left her to tell her stories, he left her to trust him enough to tell her stories. "You can always train in Rivendell," he said, after a moment of contemplation.
"I could," she nodded, again stringing another bow. "But I wouldn't be training with you," she continued, pausing to focus on the target.
He paused also to look at her, surprised.
She released her bow, and the arrow zoomed straight to the center. She smiled happily, "You are a wonderful teacher, after all."
He laughed lightly, for a moment forgetting what had happened with his father earlier. "As I've been told."
It was then that her eyes softened, as if she had seen something she had been waiting for. "There's that smile," she said softly, leaning her bow to the ground. "Are you okay now?" she asked, gentleness in her voice.
And then he understood what she had done. He smiled at her and nodded.
"Good," she said simply, directing her gaze at him, before pulling out another arrow.
Legolas watched her, transfixed. He understood then, she was not a student, nor just a comrade. In the days they had spent shooting arrows in the night, they had become friends. But still... he watched as her silver eyes slowly blinked, hiding the silver reflection of the moon for a moment.
He watched her...
Wondering.
Clunk.
She grinned, proudly looking at him. Another perfect shot.
And then he heard melodies. Behind the shadows of the trees, like stars from far away, were yellow twinkling lights. The glow of candles. It seemed as though the ceremony was finished. They were dancing now.
"I think Glines would want to see you before the night ends," she told him, also looking towards the sound.
He nodded, as he started to walk towards the noise. He could hear her following after him.
And then she spoke, "I know a better trainer in Rivendell, though."
END OF CHAPTER
A/N: Constructive critisicms are very much welcome.
Vee
Edited: 11/14
